Would he come that day? If only he would condescend to pay her another visit, she felt that what she would be able to show him might perhaps move even him to see that she was, in her way, scarcely less an object of pity than her husband, scarcely less in need of help and advice than he. And the tears blinded her so much, when she saw that there was only one letter for her, and that one in Pamela’s big, sprawling, would-be-masculine but very girlish handwriting, that for some minutes she could not see to open the letter. When she did so, however, the interest if not the consternation she felt dried her tears. “Dear Mrs. A----” the letter began; for it was thus that Pamela compromised between the real name her father had forbidden her to use, and the sham title which Audrey had refused to allow:-- “I am now going to beg you to do what you so sweetly promised you would, and to see the woman who persists that she is our mother. I have not been allowed to see her myself, nor, of course, has Babs. But Miss Willett has spoken to her, and says she is sure she is quite mad, and that if she even understands what she says, it isn’t true. Do, do see her, and tell us what you think. I managed to send out this message to her by one of the servants, that you were a great friend of ours, and that you would see her and tell her anything she wanted to know. I thought I might say all that, and I do hope you won’t be angry. I don’t think you will. I sent her your address too, and as this was to-day, I daresay you will see something of her soon after you get this. That is, if there is anything that is worth hearing in what she says. Although of course I can’t believe that what she says is true, yet, never having known our mother, you may guess how sad and how strange it has made both us girls feel. Do, do let me hear at once, if you see her, what you think. “Ever yours, “Pamela.” Audrey, miserable and lonely herself, was touched by the misery and loneliness of these two bright, sweet young girls, as expressed so ingenuously in this letter. Though she felt rather nervous as to the possible visit of the woman, she was interested, too, and anxious if she could to clear up the mystery for the young creatures. On many accounts, however, she dreaded as much as she wished for the visit which she felt sure would soon follow. And before the morning was over her expectation was realised. A servant announced that “some one” wished to see “Madame Rocada”. Audrey, with an impatient frown, such as now always crossed her face at the mention of the name, told the man to show the visitor into the morning-room.